The Girl in the Mirror Read online

  CHAPTER IV

  A PAIR OF GRAY EYES

  On their way to the restaurant Laurie had selected he chatted to hiscompanion in his buoyant, irresponsible fashion, but he had put throughthe details of the episode with tact and delicacy. He knew that in frontof a club two doors away from the studio building a short line oftaxicabs was always waiting, with the vast patience of their kind. Agesture brought one of these to the door, and when it had squawked itsway around the corner, the girl remained in its shelter until Laurie hadbriefly reentered his own building and emerged again, wearing his coatand hat.

  To the selection of the restaurant he gave careful thought. They droveto a quiet place where the food and service were excellent, while theprices were an effective barrier against a crowd. When he and hiscompanion were seated on opposite sides of a table in an isolatedcorner, Laurie confided his order to the waiter, urged that willingindividual to special haste, and smiled apologetically at the lady.

  "I'm hungry," he said briskly. "I haven't had any breakfast thismorning. Don't be surprised if I seem to absorb most of the nourishmentin the place."

  He studied her as he spoke. It was easy to do so, for she seemed almostto have forgotten him and her surroundings. She sat drooping forward alittle in her pet attitude, with her elbows on the table, and her chinin her hand, staring through the window with the look he had seen in themirror. The lethargy he dreaded again enveloped her like a garment.

  His heart sank. Here was something more than the victim of a mad buttemporary impulse. Here was a victim of a sick soul, or of a burdengreater than she could bear, or perhaps of both. He decided thatwhatever her trouble might be, it was no new or passing thing. Everycurve in her despondent figure, every line in her worn, lovely face,suggested a vast weariness of flesh and spirit. He had not seen thoselines in the mirror, and he looked at them now with understanding andsolemn eyes, as he had looked at the new lines in his sister's face whenBarbara had been passing through the worst of her ordeal last year.

  In this moment of realization he almost forgot the girl's beauty,though, indeed, it was not easy to forget. It seemed enhanced ratherthan dimmed by the haze of melancholy that hung over it, and certainlythere was nothing dim in the superb red-gold coloring of her hair. Hereyes seemed red-gold, too, for they were reddish-brown with flecks ofyellow light in them, quite wonderful eyes. He told himself that he hadnever seen any just like them. Certainly he had rarely seen anything toequal the somber misery of their expression. There was a remoteness inthem which repelled sympathy, and which was intensified by the haughtycurve of the girl's short upper lip. She was proud, proud as the devil,Laurie told himself. Again, and very humbly, he wondered how he was tohandle a situation and a personality so outside his own experience. Intruth, he was afraid. Though he did not know it, and perhaps would havevigorously denied it, Laurie still looked at women through stained-glasswindows.

  When the food came, her expression changed. She shot a quick look athim, a glance at once furtive and suspicious, which he saw but ignored.He had dismissed the waiter and was serving her himself. In the simpleboyish friendliness of his manner she evidently found reassurance, forshe suddenly sat up and began her breakfast.

  Laurie exhaled the breath he had been holding. Up till the last momenthe had feared that she might see through his subterfuge in taking herthere, and even now refuse the food he offered. But if in that fleetinginstant she felt doubt, it had died as it was born. She drank her coffeeslowly and ate her eggs and toast as deliberately, but hercharacteristic air of intense preoccupation had departed. She looked ather companion as if she really saw him. Also, she apparently felt thestirring of some sense of obligation and need of response to thisfriendly stranger. She was answering him now, and once at least shealmost smiled.

  Watching the little twitch of her proud and perfect upper lip, Lauriefelt his heart-beats quicken. She was a wonder, this girl; and with hisdelight in her beauty and her pride came another feeling, almost as newas his humility--an overwhelming sympathy for and a desire to helpanother.

  These sentiments served as needed balance to his spirits, which, asalways, mounted dangerously when he was interested. He held himself downwith difficulty.

  This was no time for the nonsense that he loved to talk. One doesn'trescue a lady from suicide and then try to divert her mind with innocentprattle. One gives her a decent time to pull herself together, and then,with tact and sympathy, one gets to the roots of her trouble, if onecan, and helps to destroy them. Despite his limited experience withdrama off the stage, Laurie knew this. Because he was very young andvery much in earnest, and was talking to a young thing like himself,though in that hour she seemed so much older, he instinctively found theright way to approach the roots.

  They had finished breakfast, and he had asked and received permission tosmoke. When he had lighted his cigarette and exhaled his firstsatisfying puff of smoke, not in rings this time, he took the cigarettefrom his mouth, and with his eyes on its blazing end expressed histhought with stark simplicity.

  "When we were over in your studio," he said, "I admitted that twice inmy life I had tried to--make away with myself. Only two other persons inthe world know that, but I'd like to tell you about it, if you don'tmind."

  She looked at him. There were strange things in the look, things thatthrilled him, and other things he subconsciously resented, withoutunderstanding why. When she spoke there was a more personal note in hervoice than it had yet held.

  "You?" she asked; and she added almost lightly, "That seems absurd."

  "I know."

  Laurie spoke with the new humility he had found only to-day.

  "You think that because I'm so young I couldn't have been desperateenough for that. But--you're young, too."

  He was looking straight at her as he spoke. Her eyes, a little hard andchallenging, softened, then dropped.

  "That's different," she muttered.

  He nodded.

  "I know the causes were different enough," he agreed. "But the feelingback of them, that pushes one up against such a proposition, must bepretty much the same sort of thing. Anyway, it makes me understand; andI consider that it gives me a claim on you, and the privilege of tryingto help you."

  Her eyes were still cast down, and suddenly she flushed, a strange, darkflush that looked out of place on the pure whiteness of her skin. Shehad the exaggerated but wholesome pallor of skin that often goes withreddish hair and red-brown eyes. It does not lend itself becomingly toflushes, and this deep flush lingered, an unwelcome visitor, throughouther muttered, almost ungracious words.

  "Oh, please don't talk about it," she said, brusquely. "It's no use. Iknow you mean to be kind, but you can't do anything."

  "Oh, but that's just where you're wrong." Laurie spoke with a cheerfulassurance he did not feel. "If I hadn't been there myself, I'd talk allsorts of twaddle to you, and do more harm than good; and I'd probablylet you go on thinking you were facing a trouble that no one could help.Instead of that, you and I are going to hold your bugaboo up to thelight, and see just what it is and how small it is. And then--" he smiledat her--"we're going to get rid of it together."

  She echoed his words, vaguely, as if not knowing quite what to say.

  "Get rid of it?"

  "Yes. Tell me what it is, and I'll show you how it can be downed."

  She pushed back her chair, as if anxious to put a greater distancebetween them.

  "No," she exclaimed, nervously, "it's impossible; I can't talk aboutit." Then, in an obvious effort to side-track the issue, "You said youwanted to tell me about your--experience."

  "I do, but it isn't a nice story. Fortunately, it won't take long." Hespoke reluctantly. It was not easy to hook two such memories out of thedarkest pool of his life and hold them up to a stranger.

  "Oh, I was a young idiot," he rushed on, "and I suppose I hadn't theproper start-off. At least I like to think there's some excuse for me.My father and mother died when I was in knickerbockers, and I grew updoing very much as
I pleased. I--made a bad job of it. Before I wastwenty-one I was expelled from college and I had worked up a prettyblack reputation. Then I gambled and lost a lot of money I didn't have,and it began to look as if about the only safe place for me was thefamily vault.

  "I made two efforts to get there. The first time a wise old doctorstopped me and never told any one about it. The second time one of mychums took a hand in the game. I don't know why they did it. I don'tsuppose either my pal or the doctor thought I was worth saving. But theytalked to me like Dutch uncles, and my chum kept at it till I gave himmy word that I'd never attempt anything of the sort again."

  "You were just an unhappy boy," she said, as if thinking aloud, "withall life before you and many friends to back you up."

  "And you," he suggested, "are just an unhappy girl with all life beforeyou. I don't know anything about your friends, but I'll wager you've gota lot of them."

  She shook her head.

  "Not one," she said, slowly. "I mean, not one I dare to call on, now."

  "I like that! You've got me to call on, right here."

  This time she really smiled at him. It was a pathetic little smile, butboth lips and eyes took part in it. He waited, but she said no more. Hebegan to fear that his confidence had been given to no purpose.Evidently she had no intention of making a confession in return. Heresumed his attack from a new angle.

  "You've been disappointed in something or some one," he said. "Oh," asshe made a gesture, "don't think I'm belittling it! I know it wassomething big. But the finish you chose wasn't meant to be, or it wouldhave come off. You see that, don't you? The very sun in its course tookpains to show you to me in time to stop it. That means something, MissMayo."

  She seemed slightly startled.

  "It is Miss Mayo, isn't it? That's the name the elevator boy gave me,yesterday."

  "It will do." She spoke absently, already on the trail of anotherthought. Suddenly she caught it.

  "Then you brought the basket, or sent it?" she cried. "It was _you!_ Howdared you!"

  She had half risen from her chair. Bending across the table, he gentlypushed her back into it.

  "Sit down," he said, imperturbably.

  She hesitated, and he repeated the command, this time almost curtly.Under the new tone she obeyed.

  "I'm going to tell you something," he went on. "I've exhausted myslender resources of experience and tact. I don't know what any one elsewould do in this situation; but I do know what I'm going to do myself.And, what is a lot more important, I know what you're going to do."

  She laughed, and he winced at the sound.

  "That's easy," she said. "I'm going to finish the act you interrupted."

  "Oh, no, you're not!"

  Her lips set.

  "Do you imagine you can prevent me?"

  "I know I can."

  His quiet assurance impressed her.

  "How?" she asked, half mockingly.

  "Very easily. I can take you from this restaurant to the nearest policestation, and have you locked up for attempted suicide. You know, it's acrime here."

  The word they had both avoided was out at last. Although he had spokenit very softly, its echoes seemed to fill the big room. She shrank backand stared at him, her hands clutching the sides of her chair.

  "You wouldn't dare!"

  "Wouldn't I? I'll do it in exactly fifteen minutes, unless you give meyour word that you will never make another attempt of the kind." He tookhis watch out of his pocket and laid it on the table between them."It's exactly quarter-past twelve," he said. "At half-past--"

  "Oh!--and I thought you were kind!"

  There was horror in the brown eyes now and an antagonism that hurt him.

  "Would it be kinder to let you go back to that studio and--"

  She interrupted.

  "How dare you interfere in my affairs! Who gave you the right?"

  "Fate gave me the right. I'm its chosen specialist on the job, and youmay take my word for it, my dear girl, the job's going to be done, anddone up brown."

  He lit a fresh cigarette.

  "It will be mighty unpleasant for you," he went on, thoughtfully."There's the publicity, you know. Of course, all the newspapers willhave your pictures--"

  "Oh!"

  "And a lot of romantic stories--"

  "Oh--you--you--"

  "But of course you can avoid all that," he reminded her, "by giving meyour promise."

  She choked back her rising fury, and made an obvious effort atself-control.

  "If I agree to these terms of yours," she asked, between her teeth, "mayI be sure that you will leave me in peace and that I shall not see youagain?"

  He looked at her reproachfully.

  "Dear me, no! Why, you'll have to see me every day. I've got to lookafter you for a while." At her expression his tone changed. "You see,"he said, with smiling seriousness, "you have shown that just for thepresent you can't be trusted to guide your own actions. So I'm going to'stick around,' and guide them for a few days, until I am sure you areyourself again!"

  "This--" again she choked on the words--"this is intolerable!"

  "Oh, I don't think so. You can see for yourself that I mean well, andthat I'm going to be a harmless sort of watch-dog. Also, you can dependon me to go off duty as soon as it's safe. But for the present you'regoing to have a guardian; and it's up to you to decide whether thatguardian shall be Laurence Devon, very much at your service, or thepolice force of the city of New York."

  She had her chin in her hands now, in her characteristic pose, and wasregarding him without resentment. When she finally spoke, it was withoutresentment, too, but coldly, as one states an unpalatable fact.

  "You," she said, "are a fool."

  Laurie flushed, then smiled.

  "That is not a new theory," he admitted.

  "Two hours ago," she said, "I warned you that it would be dangerous foryou to interfere in my affairs. Did I not?"

  "You did."

  "I warn you again. It may be a matter of life or death. Put your watchin your pocket, pay your bill, and take me home. Then go away and forgetme."

  Laurie glanced at the watch.

  "We have used up eight minutes since I gave you your choice," hereminded her.

  "You are like a child," she muttered, "spinning his top over apowder-magazine."

  Laurie frowned a little.

  "Too melodramatic," he murmured.

  "I tell you," she said fiercely, "you are acting like a fool! If youinterfere with me you will be drawn into all sorts of trouble, perhapsinto tragedy, perhaps even into disgrace."

  "You're forgetting the net," he reminded her, "the nice net youmentioned this morning, with room for two. Also--" again he looked at thewatch--"you're overlooking the value of time. See how fast these littlehands are moving. The nearest police station is only two blocks away.Unless you give me that promise, you will be in it in--" he made acalculation--"in just about four minutes."

  She seemed to come to a decision.

  "Listen to me," she said, rapidly. "I cannot be frank with you--"

  "I've noticed that," Laurie interpolated, "with regret."

  She ignored the interruption.

  "But I can tell you this much. I am not alone in my--trouble. Others areinvolved. They are--desperate. It is because of them that I--youunderstand?"

  Laurie shook his head. He did not understand, at all; but vague andunpleasant memories of newspaper stories about espionage and foreignspies suddenly filtered through his mind.

  "It sounds an awful mess," he said frankly. "If it's got anything to dowith German propaganda--"

  She interrupted with a gesture of impatience.

  "No, no!" she cried. "I am not a German or a propagandist, or a pacifistor a spy. That much, at least, I can tell you."

  "Then that's all right!" Laurie glanced at his watch again. "If you hadbeen a German spy," he added, "with a little round knob of hair on theback of your head and bombs in every pocket, I couldn't have had muchto do with you, I
really couldn't. But as you and your companions arenot involved in that kind of thing, I am forced to remind you thatyou'll be headed toward the station in just one minute."

  "I hate you!" she said between her teeth.

  He shook his head at her. "Oh, no, you don't!" he said kindly. "But Isee plainly that you're a self-willed young person. Association with me,and the study of my poise, will do a lot for you. By the way, you haveonly thirty seconds left."

  "Do you want to be killed?"

  She hissed the words at him.

  "Good gracious, no!" Laurie spoke absently, his eyes on the watch."Twenty seconds," he ended.

  "Do you want to be maimed or crippled, or--or kidnapped?"

  He looked up in surprise.

  "I don't know why you imagine I have such lurid tastes," he said,discontentedly. "Of course I don't want any of those things. My natureis a quiet one, and already I'm dreading the excitement of taking you tothe station. But now I must ask you to put on your gloves and button upyour coat for our little journey."

  "The journey you make with me," she said, with deep meaning, "may be along and hard one."

  He stood up.

  "I wouldn't miss it for the world," he told her. "But we'll have topostpone it. Our journey to the station comes first."

  She sat still, looking at him.

  "I know your type now," she said suddenly. "You live in your littlegroove, and you think that nothing happens in the world except what yousee under your nose."

  "Something awfully unpleasant is going to happen under my nose rightnow," announced her companion, disconsolately. "Come along, please. It'stime to start."

  She stood up, faced him for a second, and then dropped back into herchair with a gesture of finality. Her expression had changed back to thelethargy of her first moments in the restaurant.

  "Very well," she said. "Have it your way." She added significantly,"This may be the last time you have your way about anything!"

  "You have a depressing outlook," grumbled Laurie, contentedly sittingdown again. "It isn't playing the game to spoil my triumph with suchpredictions as that, especially as I'm going to have my way about a lotof things right now. I have your word," he added.

  "Yes."

  "Good! Now I'll give you my program. First of all, I'm going to be abrother to you; and I don't think," he ended thoughtfully, "that I'veever offered to be a brother to any girl before."

  "You're a nice boy," she said abruptly.

  He smiled at her.

  "A nice boy, though a fool. I hoped you would notice that. You'll bedazzled by my virtues before you're through with me." He went onconversationally: "The reason I've never offered to be a brother to anygirl before is that I've got a perfectly good sister of my own. Her onefault is that she's always bossed me. I warn you from the start of ourrelations that I'm going to be the boss. It will be the first time I'veever bossed any one, and I'm looking forward to it a lot."

  The faintest suggestion of a smile touched her short upper lip. Aboveit, her red-brown eyes had softened again. She drew a deep breath.

  "It's strange," she said. "You've let me in for all sorts of things youdon't realize. And yet, somehow, I feel, for the time at least, as if Ihad been lying under the weight of the world and some one had lifted thewretched thing off me."

  "Can't you, by a supreme effort of the imagination, fancy that I liftedit off?" suggested Laurie, mildly.

  This time she really smiled.

  "I can," she conceded. "And without any effort at all," she addedsomberly, "I can fancy us both under it again."

  He shook his head.

  "That won't do!" he declared. "The lid is off. You've just admitted it.You feel better for having it off. So do I. As your big brother, andself-appointed counselor, I choose this opportunity to tell you whatyou're going to do."

  She pursed her lips at him. It was the gesture of a rebellious child.Her entire manner had changed so suddenly that Laurie felt abewilderment almost equal to his satisfaction in it. For the first timethroughout the interview he experienced the thrill she had given him inthe mirror.

  "Yes?" she prompted.

  "In the first place--" He hesitated. The ground that stretched betweenthem now was firmer, but still uncertain. One false step might lose himmuch of what he had gained. "There's the question of your future," hewent on, in a brisk, matter-of-fact tone. "I spent two months last yearlooking for a job in New York. I was about down to my last cent before Ifound it. It occurred to me that, perhaps, you--" He was beginning toflounder.

  "That I am out of work?" she finished, calmly. "You are right."

  Laurie beamed at her. Surely his way was clear now!

  "I had a streak of luck last year," he resumed. "I collaborated on aplay that people were foolish enough to like. Ever since that, money haspoured in on me in the most vulgar way. I clink when I walk. Dollarsooze from my pockets when I make a gesture. Last week, at the bank, thecashier begged me to take some of my money away and do something withit. He said it was burdening the institution. So, as your adoptedbrother, I'm going to start a bank-account for you," he ended, simply.

  "Indeed you are not!"

  "Indeed I am!"

  "I agreed to live. I did not agree to--what is it you Americans say?--tosponge!"

  He ignored all but one phrase of the reply.

  "What do you mean by that?" he demanded with quickened interest. "Aren'tyou an American?"

  She bit her lip.

  "N-o--not wholly."

  "What, then?"

  She hesitated.

  "I can't tell you that just yet," she said at last.

  "Oh-h!" Laurie pursed his lips in a noiseless whistle. The girl's voicewas musically English, and though her accent was that of London, uptill now she had spoken as colloquially as any American. Indeed, herspeech was much like his sister's. He was puzzled.

  "Why didn't you tell me this before?"

  "That I am not wholly American?" She was smiling at him ironically, buthe remained serious.

  "Yes. And--oh, a lot of things! Of course you know I am all at sea aboutyou."

  The familiar shadow fell over her face.

  "When one is within an hour or two of the next world," she askedindifferently, "why should one tell anybody anything?"

  "How long have you been in America?"

  "All my life, off and on."

  This at least was reassuring. He imagined he saw a gleam of light. Thegirl had declared that she was not a spy, nor involved in warpropaganda; but it was quite possible, he reasoned, that she wasenmeshed in some little web of politics, of vast importance to her andher group, of very little importance to any one else.

  "I suppose," he suggested cheerfully, "that net you've said so muchabout is a political net?"

  They had been speaking throughout in low tones, inaudible at any othertable. Their nearest fellow diners were two middle-aged women at leastthirty feet away. But she started violently under his words. She made aquick gesture of caution, and, turning half-around, swept the room witha frightened glance. Laurie, his cigarette forgotten in his fingers,watched her curiously, taking in her evident tension, her slowlyreturning poise, and at last the little breath of relief with which sheturned back to him.

  "I wish I could tell you all you want to know," she said, "but--I can't.That's all there is to it. So please let us change the subject."

  His assurance returned.

  "You're not a crowned head or an escaped princess or anything of thatkind, are you?" he asked politely.

  This time she really laughed, a soft, low gurgle of laughter, joyous andcontagious.

  "No."

  "Then let's get back to our bank-account. We have plenty of time to runover to the Fifth Avenue branch of the Corn Exchange Bank before theclosing-hour. What color of check-book do you prefer?"

  "I told you," she declared with sudden seriousness, "that my bargain didnot include sponging."

  For the first time in the somewhat taxing interview her companion's goodhumor desert
ed him.

  "My dear girl," he said, almost impatiently, "don't beat the devilaround the bush! You've got to live till we can find the right work foryou, and that may take some time. You have intelligence enough to seethat I'm neither a gay Lothario nor a Don Juan. In your present state ofmind you're not fit to decide anything. Make up your mind, once for all,that I'm going to decide for you. It will save us both some trouble."

  He stopped. He had discovered that she was not listening to him. She wassitting absolutely still, her head a little turned. Her lips wereslightly parted, and her eyes, wide and staring, were fixed on some oneacross the room.

  Laurie's eyes followed hers. They focused on a man sitting alone at alittle table. It was clear that he had just entered, for a waiter stoodby his side, and the new-comer was giving judicious attention to thebill of fare.

  He was a harmless-looking person, of medium height and rather more thanmedium stoutness, carelessly dressed in a blue-serge suit. Hisindifference to dress was further betrayed by the fact that hisready-made black four-in-hand tie had slipped the mooring of a whitebone stud, leaving that useful adjunct of the toilet open to the eyes ofthe world. His face was round, smooth-shaven, and rather pale. He haddark brown hair, surprisingly sleek, and projecting, slightly veiledgray eyes, which blinked near-sightedly at the menu. Altogether he was aseemingly worthy person, to whom the casual observer would hardly havegiven a second glance.

  While the two pairs of eyes across the room stared at him, he confidedhis order to the waiter. It seemed a brief order, for the brow of thelatter clouded as he wrote it down and detachedly strolled off. Thenew-comer leaned back in his chair, and, as he did so, glanced aroundthe room. His projecting eyes, moving indifferently from table to table,suddenly rested, fixed, on the girl. They showed interest but nosurprise. He bowed with a half-smile--an odd smile, bland, tolerant, andunderstanding. Then, disregarding her lack of response, he fixed hiseyes on the wall facing him and waited patiently for his luncheon to beserved.

  Laurie's attention returned to the girl. She was facing him again, buther eyes looked past him as if he were not there.

  "He has found me, even here," she muttered. "Of course he would. Healways does."

  Laurie looked at her.

  "Do you mean," he asked crisply, "that that chap across the room isfollowing you around?"

  She looked at him, as if abruptly recalled to the fact of his presence.Her eyes dropped.

  "Yes," she muttered, dully. "I may escape him for a time, but he alwayslearns where I am. He will catch me when he chooses, and roll me aboutunder his paws for a while, and then--perhaps--let me go again."

  "That sounds like a certain phase of domestic life," commented Laurie."Is he by any chance your husband?"

  Her eyes held a rising anger.

  "He is not," she said. "I am not married."

  Laurie dropped his dead cigarette into the ash tray, and rose with asigh.

  "It's all very confusing," he admitted, "and a digression from the mainissue. But I'm afraid I shall have to go to the exertion of reasoningwith him."

  She started up, but before she could protest or restrain him, he hadleft her and crossed the room to the stranger's table.